


Stereochromic

by Tsume_Yuki



Series: WinterScar [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Female Harry Potter, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's already got one set of marks. </p>
<p>They're smeared across his palms, stretching all the way up his inner forearms and a bit's even smeared across his biceps. <br/>In a world where potential soul mates, be they platonic or romantic, leave behind evidence of their first marking, Bucky hasn't seen anyone with as extensive a mark as his.</p>
<p>Little does he know, the next one's gonna be so much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stereochromic

 

 

 

Bucky's already got one set of marks.

They're smeared across his palms, stretching all the way up his inner forearms and a bit's even smeared across his biceps.

In a world where potential soul mates, be they platonic or romantic, leave behind evidence of their first marking, Bucky hasn't seen anyone with as extensive a mark as his.

He got the colourful combination of red, white and blue from Steve, pulling his tiny punk ass out of an alley fight years ago, back when they were kids.

He does feel kinda sorry for his best friend, because the poor sap's pretty much got an imprint of Bucky's arms wrapping around his entire torso, in a gleaming silver, red combo.

Bucky doesn't have the slightest clue as to why he's got those colours assigned to him by the higher powers -Steve's easy to figure out, he's so damn patriotic he even kicked his way out of Mama Rogers two weeks early to ensure his birthday was as American as he could possibly get- but Bucky loves the aesthetic.

Stevie's his platonic, the first of possibly more.

They fell into a friendship as easily as they breathed.

He trusts Steve with his life.

He just wishes that he could see the punk one last time before he bites the bullet in this hellhole.

He hates HYDRA, hates them so much it sends fury dancing through his veins, angry roaring in his chest as the drums of war lust for blood within his head.

He wants to show them all what happens when you mess with the wrong guy.

But he's not strong enough, he's just another soldier plucked off the lines for the Germans to experiment on.

That's what they do.

They pick some poor sap out, drag him off, and he's never seen again. He dreads being that one.

Logically, he knows that rescue is impossible. That the losses would be too heavy.

He understands.

But he still rages at the injustice of it all.

Because these are good men, good men who would lay down their lives, but going on an lab table is not the way they want to die.

Not the way he wants to die.

 

So he picks a fight with one of the guards, getting them off the back of one of the younger recruits.

Not one of his best ideas; the bastard calls for reinforcements and they take turns hitting him, over and over and over.

Then, they just leave him on the floor, one even spitting in his hair and he can't find the energy -not the motivation, the motivation's burning him up inside- to get the last word in.

It's only a minute or so later that two of his fellow prisoners pluck him up, dragging him over to the second cell, the one he's not been in yet.

They whisper, and Bucky catches the name 'Potter' before his vision blinks away from him.

 

When he comes to, there's a warm body supporting his back, and he realises he's being cradled by another human, laid flat against their torso, between their hips with legs on either side of him.

What comes to him next almost sends him into anaphylactic shock.

There's a very distinctive curve of something, two somethings, that no man should have but his head is resting between regardless.

Bucky pretty much just stops breathing.

Gentle fingers are running through his hair, soft in their motions. But Bucky's more focused on the one cupping the side of his ribs.

The ribs that no longer feel broken.

"Don't panic," a voice that, had he not known better, passed as an under aged male, whispers in his ear.

There are two other soldiers, men, covertly watching for guards, shielding them behind their girth, and Bucky instantly knows why no one has died of injuries or sickness here.

Somehow, some way, this soldier -he dare not think the word, it's not possible to think it- is healing everyone.

He realises then, that this is why the other cell is so well behaved.

Because they're protecting this wo...

No, he can't think it.

If he thinks it, then it'll be true.

They're protecting the one that can heal them, keeping the Germans from finding out.

So, when three days later he's pulled off to the labs, James Buchanan Barnes keeps his mouth shut.

 

 

 

 

They break out, Steve breaks them out, and Bucky breaths fresh air for the first time in weeks.

His fingers still pinch from the labour, the factory work they were forced to complete.

His body's sweating from whatever the hell that bastard was injecting him with.

But he's free.

That's what matters here.

He's free of HYDRA with his best friend beside him.

His memory's not the greatest anymore, thanks to their experiments -he remembers the pain, sweet Jesus does he remember the pain- but he remembers the woman.

He can think it now.

He's no longer inside that hellhole -what in gods good name is a woman doing on the front lines anyway?!- and he can actually do something about it.

Luckily for his shaking legs though, he doesn't have to look too far, because she comes to him; the gritty hat she'd been wearing is gone now, revealing a mane of fierce red hair, and chartreuses green locks on his form, bubbling with concern.

She makes her way over, and Bucky grimaces at the fact the collar of her shirt appears to have been ripped, dipping dangerously low.

But the flash of colour overtakes everything the second he sees it.

It's red, red and silver and familiar and the exact same shade as the smears on Steve's skin.

And -a hot flush rushed across Bucky's cheeks, even though he's far from innocent- and he'd been laying where those markings now rested.

From the look on the woman's face, she knows too, and Bucky's never wished to be able to see his back more than he does right now. 

No doubt he had a truly beautiful outline of this dame's body, all along his back.

Damn.

She stops a foot or two before him, short and still stinking of that god damn place -he wants to know what se actually smells like, what sweet scents coil off her- but with a smile that brightens everything.

"Hi, I'm Harry."

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmarks form of from several seconds on contact, not instant first contact.
> 
> Send me some FemHPxJBB prompts?


End file.
